


Truth Serum

by nybras



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: (a lar party too hard), (no actual sex takes place in fic), Alcohol, F/F, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Oneshot, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nybras/pseuds/nybras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lars and Sadie at ages 22 and 23 respectively; Sadie goes on to college, and Lars continues to run in place. He learns about himself, as does Sadie, and they reconnect, meeting for the first time as the people they've become--different, but not wholly unfamiliar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Serum

**Author's Note:**

> did this as a response to a prompt challenge! prompt was from a list of "things you said"s, and it was "things you said to me while you were drunk", provided by gemtory/kissriot @ tumblr. i changed a few things.
> 
> ALSO I REUSED SOME THEMES, I'M SORRY... i just like lars and sadie sitting next to each other having similar real talks ~*IN DIFFERENT CONTEXTS*~. i promise to be more creative in the future.....

It’s been a really, really long time since you’ve seen Sadie.

Okay, maybe that’s kinda dramatic—but it’s been almost a year. Alright, so you are definitely exaggerating—but she hasn’t been living in Beach City for three years now, and your interactions have been agonizingly touch-and-go with her infrequent visits and your inability to be honest with yourself with how much you want to talk to her. You probably could text her more, or call her more—but you don’t want her to get the wrong idea. Or the… right… idea. Whatever.

Almost three years ago, Sadie got accepted into some university. She’d been fulfilling some general credits at the Beach City Community College, and you really hadn’t been paying it any mind—as the type of guy who’s only ever generally concerned about his own business anyway, you think you probably weren’t even aware of the signs, in retrospect. She probably told you more than a few times, and you probably didn't even hear her.

When you were both teenagers, you’d played a game of hot and cold with each other so intense that you’d barely survived. Distance welled and grew between the two of you, pushing you apart. You didn’t realize how much you liked having Sadie around until she didn’t really want you around, or at least, that’s how you took it. That’s how you had to take it. That was how you coped with it, because somehow it was otherwise too hard. 

And you cooled off a bit, sure. A year and a half later, when you were almost 20, you had your first one night stand. Or rather, it kinda happened to you. And the girl…the girl was just someone. An anonymous body, practically. It chilled and disturbed you that you couldn’t remember her name the next day. You realized that night, you had a much smaller tolerance for alcohol than you’d anticipated. So from then on, you took it easy with how much you drank. No more trying to impress your cool friends with badly executed keg stands, no sir. They still give you shit for that night. Constantly.

The two of you have gone through a couple of significant others, of varying seriousness. But you’ve never really had your heart broken, and from what you can tell, neither has Sadie—you hope she hasn’t, anyway. And in your case, your every connection has just been so fleeting and shallow. Every exchange and touch had been hollow, to where you broke things off eventually and the ripples from the fall out died maybe only a couple weeks after. If you weren’t so shy in the first place, you’d probably have a reputation as a heartbreaker. Or, well, a slut. Maybe both? Instead of anything cool like that, however, you just have a regular-ass bad reputation. The guy who gets way too trashed at parties and can’t seem to hold interest in girls, but can be kinda easy to get into bed.

And now, now that Sadie’s in town again, you’re sort of dreading the unveiling of these things inside yourself. The thing about it is that Sadie hasn’t changed a lot, you think—she’s a lot more mature in a lot of ways, certainly, even you can tell, and she always impresses you in ways you’d never admit when you two have your sparing conversations over text about school, people, whatever. But at her core, she’s the same sweet girl who you fucked over because you didn’t know how lucky you were.

And here she is.

“Hey, Lars!”

Her voice almost makes you wince; it’s bright like sunshine, and it makes you feel pathetic. Every time you think you’re over her, and you feel good about it, that just gets thrown out the window immediately when you see her again. For someone so little and so humble, she has an overwhelming presence to you. Even if your smile is a little forced, your posture hunched, body language withdrawn and nervous, you give her a little wave.

You gotta be cool about it, you know. Gotta pretend you aren’t totally crazy and weird inside about this girl. Never mind that you’ve been so nervous about seeing her again that you’ve been drinking a little to take the edge off (at least it’s socially acceptable in a party scenario—you showed up a little early just for that). You’ve been talking more than usual, prior to her arrival. You still got it bad, but she’s way past moved on. You can tell.

Sucks, cuz you never even got to be a fully realized concept together. An old almost; one that you knew you should be over by now.

“Heyyy,” you breath back in a little laugh. “How’s it goin’, Sadie?”

“Oh, you know—good!” She smiles with her teeth, and your gut twists. She has a thinly knit gray wool beanie on, the fluff of her bangs framing her face. She got in today, you think you remember, so she's probably hiding travel hair. The natural bright rosiness of her cheeks are made apparent by a pair of simple red ear studs. Other than that, she’s as simple and utilitarian with her presentation as usual. It’s honestly so weirdly refreshing and endearing. 

“Well, better now. Missed everybody,” she adds with a friendly, bubbly laugh, then spreads her arms out to either side of herself. “C’mere!”

You roll your eyes, puffing out a cheek a little. “Alright, fine.” You hunch with pretty comical exaggeration (by total necessity, actually) and give her a little hug. She hugs you around the neck with both of her arms, her softness and warmth immediately making your heart race, your body reacting to its memory of hers, but you keep your hold on her real low key—just an arm loosely around her back, giving her a brief little squeeze. She laughs again with delight, and you honestly wish you could indulge your impulse to give her a real hug. And a long, tight one—but man, there’s people around. People’d be seeing how deep you’re in it for her.

“See you picked up a couple more body mods while I was gone,” she teases warmly, elbowing you in the waist a little. “That where all your paychecks go?”  


You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you roll your eyes, completely unaware with how transparent you’re being. “Gimme a break, most of it goes to rent an' bills an' junk… You know that. They’re like, rewards, you know. ‘Sides, it’s nothin' crazy.”

“That’s what you’ll say every time you get one, you know. Still, your chest piece is coming along, huh? And I like the snake bites. They're cute!”

You feel your face immediately prickle with heat, spreading to the tops of your ears. “It ain’t cute, Sadie, come on,” you grouse with embarrassment, even though you’re totally thrilled she thinks so—and she giggles a little, softly slapping your arm.

“It totally is.”

“Yeah, well, you have a type,” you shoot back at her, raising an eyebrow as you smile cheekily. Sadie pauses, seeming taken aback, and then laughs incredulously, waving her cup in a grand gesticulation to her side.

“Excuse me!” Sadie narrows her eyes with a sly smile, taking a sip from her red party cup. She bounces her eyebrows. “Don’t you flatter yourself, mister.”  


You know she’s teasing, but you scowl petulantly at her.

“And you know, if I did have a type, Lars,” Sadie says idly, her voice quiet against the rim of her cup, her eyes distant, sort of sticking on the crowd of people at her peripheral. “It’d probably be your fault.”

You’re stunned, and even if you had more time to respond, you wouldn’t have any clue what to say—Buck Dewey spins on his heel in passing and then excitedly (you know, for Buck’s standards) greets Sadie, who returns his enthusiasm, lighting back up immediately. He lifts his shades to give you a friendly wink as he puts his hand on Sadie’s shoulder, guiding her to the more general, larger crowd of the party.

You stare stupidly in his wake. You ain’t gonna fight the host.

———

Now it’s a little late. Nooowww you’re definitely drunk. You definitely had too much to drink. You aren’t a guy who has swell judgement to begin with—you have learned, seen and accepted this about yourself—but now you’re sleeping-with-random-girls impaired. Making-out-with-either-Sour-Cream, Buck-Dewey-or-Kevin-that-one-time impaired. Throwing-up-in-someone-else’s-bed-when-nothing-sexy-was-even-happening, you-literally-just-got-lost-and-threw-up-on-a-stranger’s-bed-at-a-party impaired. You still hope no one found out that was your puke.

Thankfully, you aren’t sick. You feel fine. Now, you don’t actually drink a ton. Maybe once every couple weeks, sometimes once a month—but it’s still sad that at 21, you’ve already come to the point where even when you are shitfaced, you still feel relatively well held together. You remember your first year or so of getting drunk (far before you could legally drink), it was always a heinous, hilarious whirlwind of impairment. But now it just feels like mild intoxication, even though you’re far gone. You are totally clumsier and more thoughtless than you even think… but you’re confident you can keep your shit together.

But man, you know, the room spins a little. Well, okay, not the room—the world, because you’re outside. The world spins. You were having fun, generally speaking, hanging out with and talking to everyone, making people laugh… But you have a limit on social interactions you didn’t always honor or acknowledge, outgoing introvert that you are. You want to be this super energetic guy who could really handle his alcohol and could stay up until 4am having fun, but the reality is that crowds overwhelm you. In small doses, it’s okay. When sober, it’s okay. When Sadie isn’t haunting the corner of your existence, physically, and you actually know how to talk to her or process or possess your own feelings for her, it’s okay.

But none of it is okay. Earlier, you sort of started to feel suffocated; the warm air of the house was choking you; everyone’s voices started to get muffled; you’re now so drunk that colors are too bright and images were trailing in smears if you turned too suddenly. The alcohol was definitely catching up to you, and has caught up to you. Fast.

So now you’re outside, a cigarette held loosely between your fingers, sitting on an ornate garden bench that belongs to the Dewey residence. It’s a nice ass yard that you’ll probably never get used to, and you hope you don’t get sick in it at some point tonight. You billow smoke from your nostrils, stuffing your phone in your pocket after you finish sending off a text. You settle then on staring sternly into the middle-distance, when—

“Lars?”

You jump, then start coughing immediately. Embarrassed, you put out your cigarette against the side of the steel ornate bench. Sadie doesn’t smoke, and you know she doesn’t like the smell. Getting caught by her is humiliating… She knows you smoke, but—

Does it matter? God. Get it together.

“Jesus,” you manage sorely, coughing a few more times as you flap your hand around a little to try to waft the smoke away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sadie gasps, sitting beside you on the bench with concern. She pats your back, and you cough a few more times. Agitated, you gently swat her soothing hand away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you insist. This is vaguely reminiscent of a couple of events in your life you’d rather forget… “Y'gonna make me burp, quit it.”

Sadie withdraws her hand quick from your spine, then does this little laugh that makes you queasy with how cute it is. She leans forward.

“You sure you’re okay? I saw you… kinda stumble out, back there.”

“I’m fine,” you say tensely, once again.

“You seem pretty drunk, Lars… I mean, do you need a ride home or something?”

You lift your head, boggling kind of vacantly at Sadie. You aren’t aware of how you sort of sway in place, staring at her owlishly. You scoff, glancing away harshly, sniffing tersely.

“What, you offerin’? You drove here, right?”

“Well…”

“You stayin’ at a hotel or what?” Your question is pretty thoughtless, and you’re looking at her again. She looks taken aback. Shocked, even—which grows into something more suspicious. Her eyes stick to you out their corners as she tilts her head away a little. 

“Lars…”

“I’m just _curious!_ ” You blurt out in your drunken majesty, immediately trying to cover your tracks. You’re not sure what you were going for—you didn’t exactly want that—but when you’re like this—drunk, anxious, overwhelmed… You get needy in a certain sort of way that makes you make bad choices. You aren’t just bored and horny, looking to get laid. You know it looks that way. “I—wasn’t sayin’, like—”

“Okay, alright,” Sadie says in that sing-song sort of way that tells you she doesn’t really believe you, but she’s having the grace and patience enough to drop it. You’re a little mortified to think she just isn’t taking anything you say for more than face value, even though at the moment, that’s working in your favor. It feels a little slighting.

“Can we…” You stare at your bony knees, still swaying a little. “Can we talk? Like, in your car, or something.”

Sadie gives a long, withering sigh, sort of wilting in the direction opposite to you, like she’s looking for a way to get out of this.

Panicking, you turn and grab her wrist—gently. She still jumps, blinking at your grasp and then up at you. “No! No, Sadie, I promise I ain’t up to anything shady, okay? You know I wouldn’t do that, right?”

Sadie narrows her eyes. “Ohhh no, Lars. I know how alone time between us goes.”

“What?! Cripes, Sadie, that was like—that’s ancient history. We were 18! It was _one_ time!”

Sadie pulls her wrist out of your grasp, finally starting to look a little mad. “It’s not ancient history, Lars! We’re like… part of each other’s history, you know? I think it probably shaped us, a little. Plus, you can't pretend first times don't mean anything.”

“…Sadie, are _you_ drunk?”

“No!” She squeaks it out in a way that sounds quite affronted, pressing her knees together. She scowls again. “No, what? Why? Lars, gosh, I’m being serious. I can actually hold my liquor, you …you goofball.”

“Goofball? S’cuze me?”

“That’s right!” She whaps your shoulder. “You’re goofy!” You wince, then give her a nudge with your knee.

“Whatever. Look—okay, look, I’m keeping my hands to myself, alright? See 'em?” You hold open your hands in a jazzy spread, slowly wiggling your fingers at Sadie to appraise in a gesture of non-sexually motivated peace.

She pushes your knee back towards you. “Keep the rest of you to yourself too, and we got a deal.”

“Fine.”

———

The next morning, you feel hideously hung over (this is not a surprise). You are, however, thankfully in your bed. You groan, rising with a creakiness in your bones. Your mouth is cotton dry, and your head swims from the simple act of pushing yourself up. You moan in pain and discomfort, glancing down at your phone to see the time. It’s only 8, so you flop back down, trying to force yourself back into sleep. You aren't totally sure if you're totally sober.

But then you notice you have a text. Feeling your anxiety immediately flare, you snatch up your phone, blearily staring at the too-bright screen—even though it’s at its dimmest setting.

“What…the fuck…” 

It’s from yourself. From one in the morning, at the party. 

`duckin fucjk soryr in advnace, RIP in pece`

You squint with increasing suspicion at your phone screen, slowly bringing it closer to your face as if that might help you decipher what the hell compelled you to send yourself something so stupid—when you suddenly remember that you dragged Sadie from her own party into her car for some stupid talk. From a party that was being thrown to celebrate her three month return for the Summer. A literal, actual party for Sadie, and you singled her out and removed her for some freaking self involved indulgent horseshittery.

You feel your stomach lurch with mortification, and then you drop your phone on your face with a horrified gasp. You yelp angrily and stumble upright, then the unsettled feeling in your stomach takes you so aggressively that your head swims. You clumsily scramble off your bed, momentarily getting your ankles caught in your sheets, and half (speed) crawl into the bathroom. You vomit for a little while, and once that passes, you miserably—and as hastily as possible—brush your teeth.

Once that’s over with, you throw yourself back onto your bed, which…kind of hurts, but you aren't known for your good decisions. You bounce by your phone, staring at with wide, tired eyes, hands tucked between your knees. 

You don’t remember the conversation with Sadie. At all. You don't even remember if you honored your promise to not be a Handsy Hank!!

You should at least apologize, you think. You’re a grownass man, and you’re still pulling shit like this. You wonder if it’s too early, but you remember Sadie always rises early. If it’s 8, she’s already slept in.

You decide to call her, only because looking at your screen hurts more than sounds do (you think), but not before flopping your back back against the bed. You wince, teeth bared, eyes tightly shut and the bridge of your nose pinched between your thumb and index-finger as you listen to it ring on her end. The anticipation, especially accompanied by the ringing sound, is painful.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you say dryly through your teeth, and Sadie laughs a little. Music to your ears that she isn’t screaming at you. Good start.

“Good morning,” she returns. “Feelin’ alright?”

You’re tempted to tell her you just threw up for like five minutes, but then—why the fuck would you even say that? Impulse denied. You have to make an effort not to just make this all about you. “Great.” Wow, you’re a horrible liar.

“Pretty hungover, huh?” She sounds sympathetic, but also kind of amused.

“Yeah,” you concede, then clear your throat. “How about you? You …uh. You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m just fine,” she returns, then withdraws a little. “Oh… sorry. Not to rub it in your face or anything. Ha.”

“God, whatever. It’s fine.”

“So, what’s up? Things okay?”

“Well—uh. Man, this is awkward…”

Another laugh. “Is it?”

“Sadie, um… do you have, like, any idea how drunk I was last night?”

“Well, I think I have a clue,” she answers, and you can practically hear her smile.

“I mean, I was okay when we first met up—but I drank too much and too fast, like—I totally underestimated my intake. I guess. I shoulda known better, but I was kinda nervous—”

“I know!” You blink, stopping silent as Sadie interrupts you. “I know,” she reiterates. “You told me all of this in my car… You said you were way drunker than you meant to be, for that very reason!”

The idea that you were so honest is revolting to you, even if that’s what you’re trying to do as you speak. “Oh.”

“Lars, do you... not even remember our conversation?”

You answer her in a long, miserable groan, and she’s probably rolling her eyes at you from the other line. She’s gonna be so fed up with you in a second, you just know it…

“I don’t remember anything… It’s been forever since I blacked out… I wanna die.”

“Oh, calm down. I appreciated how sincere you were, you know… Even if you were drunk. Guess it's true what they say! Truth serum.”

“Oh—god, Sadie, what did I say?”

“Worried word might go around?”

“N…o… Well, now I am. Are you torturing me?!”

Sadie laughs. “Sorry, sorry, too tempting.”

You roll over onto your side, whining with agony, your bony knees hiking near to your chest. You close your eyes tightly, starting to feel legitimately frustrated. “Sadie…”

“Aw, sheesh, okay. Don’t do that.” Sadie sighs, and you hear the muffled rustling of fabric on her end. Your face grows warm, wondering if Sadie’s still laying around in bed. Your brain snags on that, for a minute. “Youuu… told me… well, a lot of stuff, I guess.”

“Oh god. Sadie, that doesn’t tell me anything…”

“Like—uh, culinary school!” She exclaims, sounding excited. “I was really thrilled to hear you were thinking about going to that one school—sorry, I forget the name—in Charm City? Right?”

“Oh—what? Why did I tell you that?”

“I dunno. I don’t know why you haven’t told anyone, though. I mean, you said you were afraid of getting people’s hopes up, but—”

“Oh my god. Kill me…”

“Lars, please, it’s no big deal. Will you settle down?” She’s laughing again, and you’re not sure if you feel at ease, or patronized. “But…that’s not all you told me.” You pause, your eyes snapping open, and you feel like your heart stops for a second.

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms sort of lightly, in a way that you think sounds like it lacks commitment. You pause again, paralyzed with terror, and Sadie thankfully takes your silence as a cue to continue. “You said that the reason why you accidentally drank so much—or like, why you were so nervous in the first place… was because I was back in town.”

You bite your lip and pinch the bridge of your nose, holding your tongue. You’re too scared to say anything. Your heart pounds rowdily against your ribs. It doesn’t feel great.

“…You said you were like—really, um—now don’t get embarrassed,” Sadie urges. Your retort with a gruff “no promises,” and she sighs, continuing her explanation regardless. “Well, you said you were...you know, still really attracted to me.”

“Oh god,” you say quietly, feeling your sweat go cold.

“No, no, it’s okay! Honestly, I was surprised… I know you like to flirt with me sometimes, but I couldn’t tell if that was just like—how you are in general, or if… I dunno, you just wanted to get laid? I mean, you were sloppy drunk.”

“Sadie!” You squeak, knitting your eyebrows angrily as you glare sort of pointlessly at your phone’s receiver. “What the hell kinda guy do you think I am? I’d never do that!”

“I—I dunno! I honestly didn’t really know what kinda guy you were, you know? Like who you've become, I guess. The last couple years, it’s been more of a mystery than it ever was. People change.” 

“I can’t believe you. Sheesh.”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry.”

“Did I say anything else?”

“…Um, yeah! Yeah. Haha, you said a lot of sweet stuff, geez…”

“Uh. W-what… what does that mean,” you mumble hesitantly, swallowing nervously.

“I dunno. You said what you liked about how I look, you said you liked my voice, and that you missed it... You said that I…always made you feel like you were worth something. Or I used to, till we kinda grew apart. But you said you held onto that, and that you’ve sort of been messed up by the distance. I honestly wouldn’t have had any idea you felt that way, because you’ve gotten so good at hiding stuff. And you barely reached out!”

You feel like barfing again. Culinary school definitely wasn’t what you had on your mind when you walked into the joint; it makes sense to you that alcohol would loosen up your tongue about what was on your mind all night: Sadie. The school talk must have been after the conversation you apparently intended to have… You aren’t sure if you can handle any more scandalization.

“You _really_ don’t remember that stuff?” Sadie asks again, and you find yourself weirdly feeling kind of bad.

“…No. Sorry, Sadie…”

“…It’s all true, though, right?”

You jump, then sit straight up pretty suddenly—which makes you woozy and hurts your head a little, so you wince an eye, pressing your palm against your temple. “Totally! Sadie, I’ve been thinkin’ about this stuff for a long time!” Feeling a little embarrassed with your own candidness, you bite the inside of your cheek. “Oh, yyyuck, euch, that sounds really pathetic… Man, this is why I didn’t wanna share this stuff.”

“But you did wanna share it, Lars,” Sadie presses. “You just needed to get over your own nerves a little, you know? That's not pathetic; that's pretty normal.”

You growl in frustration, thudding your head against your bony knees. 

“Lars… I know you can’t help it, but I wish you didn’t always put down your own feelings like that. You know, the way you always act like it’s something to be ashamed of, how you hide it… I always really liked those parts about you that you think are so like…gross, or whatever.”

You blink, and you’re glad that Sadie isn’t around to see the way her words puts some dimples in your chin. Goddamn it, why are you such an embarrassment? “Really?” 

“Yeah… I just realized I couldn’t force you to like—be someone you didn’t necessarily wanna be, but… I’ve always liked that side of you so much. It was because of that side of you that I ever had it so bad for you in the first place. I told you all this last night, too.”

You pause, more because you find that you can’t really find your voice with how tight your throat is, and you move your receiver away from your mouth as you sniffle, wiping your hand across your eyes. 

“Also, now that I’m back in town,” Sadie tentatively continues. “…You, uh, asked me out.”

“H-what!? What?!” You accidentally drop your phone, exclaim graphically, and then clumsily snatch your phone back up. “I what!?”

“Yeah. You basically explained why you’ve been the way you’ve been, and, well, said you wanted me to be your girlfriend, if I wasn’t just totally sick of you after all the stuff we went through.”

You feel like your heart is going to explode. You’re definitely going to be sick. “…A-and… are you? Are you sick of me?”

“Lars, I’ve barely had any of you to be sick over the last couple years. I came around again, straight back to just… I dunno, missing you. I sorta got over my feelings, but I don’t think the potential’s dead. I’m still really into you, um…physically, and I think we’ve got something to work with. I mean, we gotta set some boundaries and stuff, figure some stuff out, but…”

“Wait, so did you say yes?”

“Well, uh. Yeah,” she clarifies with a nervous little laugh, and you feel your stomach lurch with relief. And nausea. And happiness? There’s a lot happening right now. Your eyes are burning hot with tears, and you’re holding onto all of your strength not to let them fall. It’s really gross and embarrassing. “I did. Sorry if that was unclear.”

“O-oh—uh, I—don’t take this the wrong way, Sadie,” you struggle out, and Sadie falls silent, probably bracing for the worst. “…but I gotta—in a minute, I gotta be right back. I think… I gotta puke.”

“Oh, uh. Wow. Okay. Know what? Why don’t you…just call me back, then.”

“Okay. Uh—tomorrow, if you aren’t busy, while I’m not—you know, super hung over—do you wanna like… do something, then?”

“Yeah! I do. Definitely. I’ll call you later tonight and we can make plans.”

“Y. Yeah, alright.”

“Bye, Lars,” she says, mercifully helping you bring this conversation to a close. “Wear somethin’ cute tomorrow," she teases.

“Pff… whatever,” you laugh nervously, and she says she’ll talk to you later—you return her parting words, and the second she hangs up, you clap your hand against your mouth, running to the bathroom again.

It’s probably the first time you’ve been so happy you threw up. You suppose it’s a first you’ll take.


End file.
